


On The Edge

by KyloTrashForever



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Boss Ben, Canon Age Difference, Dom rey, Edging, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Intern Rey, Interns & Internships, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, Office Blow Jobs, Office Party, Office Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Outercourse, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Premature Ejaculation, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Smut, Training, Virgin Ben Solo, come in pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-10-30 16:17:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: “Tell the truth, Mr. Solo. Have you ever been with a woman before?”He closes his eyes. “No. No, I haven’t.”“Mm,” she hums. “So I take it you have a problem… holding back? Is that it?”His eyes are still shut tight, too embarrassed to look at her. Will she use this information against him? Blackmail him?He isn’t prepared for the way her finger trails over the outline of his cock, his eyes flying open to take in her wicked grin as she leers down at him.“I think… you need a teacher, Mr. Solo.”In which Ben can’t seem to last and Rey is all too willing tolend a hand.





	1. You Need A Teacher

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skerft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skerft/gifts).



> A prompt from Curious Cat from my sweet friend that completely got away from me and will definitely be a filthy bout of ridiculousness. (I just don’t need much prodding to write an awkward Ben.) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! ❤️

* * *

 

Fuck, he doesn’t even want to be here.

_Mandatory,_ his uncle had said. _You need to make an effort with your subordinates._

He is still rolling his eyes. So many _people—_ people he hardly cares to see during working hours. He _definitely_ doesn’t have any desire to see them now, at a time when he should be in the comfort of his own home.

The crux of the matter however, is that being _here—_ a work function— means more time with _her._ It is excruciating as it is, having to see her day after day, abiding her gentle teases and her coy smiles. She looks at him as if she _wants_ something from him. Something he can’t give her. Something he can’t give _anyone_.

She scares the ever-loving shit out of him.

He’d zeroed in on her the second he’d entered the party, wrapped up in a red dress and looking like a damned Christmas present. The soft fabric wrapped around her like a second skin, the high collar brushing against the loose curls at her nape and her lips of matching red pressed against a champagne flute.

Idly he’d thought about how she wasn’t even old enough to be drinking at nineteen— he knew Poe or Finn were to blame for this and he had half a mind to seek them out and tear them a new asshole. Except that too was interaction he wasn’t exactly interested in.

Even as he tucked himself away near the bar his eyes followed her, whether in interest or self preservation he wasn’t sure. If she found him she would want to _talk._

He thinks she might even _like_ him— a fact that puzzles him to no end. No one really likes Ben. They want him to sign their paychecks and dole out their Christmas bonuses— but that’s about the extent of their interest in him. He’s never shared a joke in the break room, never been invited out for drinks after everyone leaves, hell, he doesn’t even think that he knows his secretary’s last name.

All things that are perfectly alright with him. He’s never really wanted to delve any further into intra-office relationships. Then _she’d_ come along.

Rey Saule. A nineteen-year-old intern with the hopes of becoming a fully fledged journalist at the magazine. She’d landed the internship after careful consideration of a good number of applicants that Ben had reviewed himself, his uncle having conducted the final interviews that had inevitably resulted in her coming to work there.

Unfortunately, the applications had been lacking a photo of any kind, and therefore Ben had been remarkably unprepared for his first run-in with the quiet temptress that was Rey.

He’d had a particularly sour morning, finding himself very behind on a great number of projects and Poe calling to inform him that _oh yes, there’s one more that will be behind schedule_ and of _course_ there was, with the morning he had been having. He’d burst into the break room in a huff, making a beeline for the coffee pot with every intention of making himself the strongest, blackest cup of coffee he was able and holing up in his office for the remainder of the day.

He’d nearly run her over.

He’d collided with her wholly, her smaller body pressed _far_ too close to his own as he quickly peeled himself away but _too late—_ he’d already memorized the entirety of her shape as it had been molded against him for approximately four seconds.

He doesn’t even remember if he even _said_ anything to her. He was almost certain he’d just… _stared_ at her. Her eyes had some sort of honeyed tint to their blue-green, and they’d been wide and apologetic as her perfectly pink mouth had formed syllables he couldn’t even hear. He thinks he _might_ have at least grunted at her, although that too is hazy.

He’d fled to his office, coffee forgotten, and closed the door with far more force than was necessary, glancing down at the bane of his existence as it threatened to tent his slacks.

Because that’s what all of Ben’s anxiety boils down to, wasn’t it? His traitorous, over-eager cock.

Because of it, he is plagued by a secret he’s never admitted out loud to anyone. Because of it, he can’t get close to a girl he finds attractive without feeling a rush of anxiety and arousal that makes him a little bit sick actually.

Although to be fair, he doesn’t know the actual logistics of where the blame should fall. Is it his cock for being so eager? His brain for not being able to put a leash on the Judas Iscariot that was his dick? Or perhaps it is him as a whole— some misplaced wiring or faulty circulation issue that has left him in his prolonged predicament?

Whatever it is, it means that after that fateful first meeting— Ben has done his very best to avoid Rey altogether. The last thing he needs is to get hard mid-conversation and be slapped with a heavy sexual harassment suit that will leave him in a state of embarrassed ruin or worse— _prison._

Which leaves him here, hiding in a dark corner alongside the bar and sneaking surreptitious glances towards the scarlet-clad vixen in hopes he might avoid her attention. As if he is actually that lucky.

He’s made it an hour— the designated amount of time Luke had deemed acceptable for his presence before he is allowed to slink away to his own home. He is just getting ready to sneak away when he catches sight of her catching sight of _him—_ her focus suddenly singular and downright _predatory_ and he feels like a mouse in sight of a cat.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

He tries to scramble away only to meet a wall, turning instead in the opposite direction to collide with a disgruntled Mrs. Maz— the only person at the magazine who has been around longer than Luke. Ben isn’t even entirely sure what she _does_.

He mutters an apology, trying to retreat in another direction only to realize that _shit,_ the only other way is right in _her_ way and he has to suppress the urge to whine. He finally makes a completely chicken-shit move and ducks under a waiter’s arm, a feat that would actually be impressive considering Ben’s size— if it weren’t so cowardly.

He darts down a hallway, and he can hear the clack of her heels as she pursues him. He hears her call his name, but he pretends not to as he sees the bathroom coming blessedly into view. Hiding in the restroom won’t be his proudest moment, but it will get the job done. Surely she’ll take the hint, right?

He is just squeezing inside, having every intention of closing the door and locking it behind him when he sees a peek of painted toenails blocking his attempt. He backs away in a rush, Rey pressing inside quickly and quietly shutting the door, the sound of the lock turning deafening in the small space.

She grins at him like he’s some sort of meal, and he feels heat at his collar as he tries to physically _become_ the wall behind him. He’s pressed against it as if he might _actually_ pass through it, a thick lump in his throat that he can’t seem to swallow around.

“Ben,” she all but purrs, an edge to her voice that is surely from the champagne she shouldn’t have been drinking.

He feels his throat somehow tighten further, and the result is his voice coming out much higher octave than usual. “You should— you’re supposed to call me Mr. Solo.”

“Ah,” she hums. “Of course. How could I forget? _Mr. Solo.”_

Fucking Christ on a cracker that’s no better. In fact that is worse. Much, _much,_ worse. Why is it worse? She’s called him this before. Although, she’s never said it in _that_ voice.

She lets her eyes pass over him, trailing down the length of his torso and settling over his slacks where _of course_ he is already sporting a semi because fucking _Rey_ is in a _bathroom_ with him and he’s thought of her saying his name like that for _months_ in both terror and delight.

“What are you doing, Rey?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

She takes a step towards him, and he fears he might _actually_ be leaving an impression in the wall. “Aren’t you? You seem to be avoiding me a lot lately. Why is that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even to him it sounds feeble.

“Don’t you?” Another step. He has nowhere else to go. He still can’t seem to swallow.

“Rey, I—”

She’s directly in front of him now, her fingers toying with a button at his dress shirt and if she looks down she will surely see the back-stabbing— or rather _front-stabbing_ organ that is pressed against his pants from nothing more than her fingers at a goddamn _button._ “I _know_ you like me, _Mr. Solo._ You don’t think I can tell? You don’t think I notice?”

_Like_ is an understatement— sole occupant of his most embarrassing fantasies for the greater part of six months is more accurate. “You’re— you’re my intern.”

“And doesn’t that make it _so_ much more exciting?”

“I can’t— I can’t _actually_ ensure you get hired here. If that’s what this is about. My influence.”

Her fingers still, her brow knitting as she gives him a steady glare. “Is that what kind of girl you think I am?”

“I don’t know— it’s just— you’re _you_ and I’m _me_ and why would you ever want—”

“I don’t _need_ you to ensure I get hired. I can do that just fine on my own. I don’t know if you’ve seen my transcript, but I assure you— I’m perfectly capable without your help.”

“Then _why?”_

“Your influence means nothing to me, _Mr. Solo.”_ He fully regrets reminding her to address him this way, as now it is proving to be the biggest mistake of his life. “It isn’t your _influence_ that makes me touch myself at night.” Her hands are moving over his shoulders now, sliding down the thickness of his biceps and squeezing lightly. Did she just say she touches herself thinking about him? “It isn’t your _influence_ that keeps me awake, wondering what it might feel like between my legs.” He feels her fingers in his hair now, and he is Yellowstone, Old Faithful, and the next eruption is _dangerously_ close.

She’s pressing up on her toes now, her lips so close to his and _this_ he’s done before but it has _never_ been like this. “It _definitely_ isn’t your _influence_ that I want to feel driving into me while I scream your name— be it Ben or _Mr. Solo.”_

Her fingers have moved, trailing down the length of his chest just as her lips brush against his and they continue onwards until they are _dangerously_ close. He is helpless, caught by her mouth that is now applying just a _slight pressure_ that leaves him light-headed. Her tongue slips inside, and he can’t find even an ounce of him that wants to protest. Only, then her fingers keep moving, and they are brushing against his zipper, curving, _holding,_ his cock in her hand and it’s too late— _far too late._

Then it’s over. His life ruined with a grunt and a slight shake and there’s no denying the wet patch at his zipper and _fucking shit how can he explain this._ She stills, backing away slightly and glancing between them.

Memories assault him all at once, and suddenly he is twenty again, and he is not in this bathroom but in the twin bed of his dorm room.

“Did you— did you just—”

He’s still in his dorm room, the disgusted face of the first person who’d ever seen him naked filling his vision.  

_Did you seriously just—_

He doesn’t allow her to finish. He tears away from her in a rush, pushing past her and barreling through the door without a backwards glance. He keeps to the darkened halls that lead away from the bathroom, blessedly finding his way to the service elevator without running into anyone else and pressing inside as fast as humanly possible.

The ride down is painful, cold cum in his briefs and his face still inflamed as he recalls the confused look Rey had given him. He’ll have to quit his job of course. He might even need to flee the country. He’s always wanted to visit Europe, and he’s always liked tea. They drink tea there don’t they? Yes. This is a solid plan. _Anything_ is preferable to facing Rey at work on Monday, or ever again for that matter.

Curse his traitorous, over-eager cock.

* * *

He doesn’t move to Europe. He wishes he had, but of course that isn’t an option. He _had_ spent an excessive amount of time the day before browsing a travel agency website just as an _option—_ but had quickly realized that this was out of the question and maybe Rey would be just as embarrassed as he was and never speak to him again. That is the best case scenario— worst being that she tells everyone in the office that he is a _quickfire_ and him being _forced_ to leave the country to escape the sounds of their laughter.

Needless to say— he is an absolute wreck Monday morning. He arrives early as he always does, slipping into the building when there are still very few people and stomping out a quick path to his office. He passes only a few people on his way, and none of them _seem_ to give him any looks that said _we know you can’t hold back your semen,_ so that is something at least.

He only breathes again when he is inside the safety of his own office, closing the door behind him and settling into his desk chair. He lets his head fall against the mahogany surface, his breath clouding the sleek wood as he huffs out a sigh.

_What in the fuck am I going to do?_

He hasn’t even formed any sort of plan here. He’d tried, sure. He’d laid awake for the past two nights trying to come up with _any_ sort of plausible plan of action that would save him from further embarrassment. Nothing. That’s what he’d come up with. Nothing. Perhaps he could just… ask her. Maybe if he explained— _fuck._ Explain what?

That he can’t seem to have anyone near his dick long enough to actually _use_ it without painting the walls white? That no matter what he does, he comes within thirty seconds of any sort of sexual activity? How do you even _broach_ that subject without wanting to hang yourself? He picks up his head only to let it fall back against the desk, repeating this motion once more for good measure.

He is just working up the strength to actually _do_ something when he hears a soft knock at his door— and he eyes the closed wood curiously, knowing there is normally no one but him at the office at this hour.

“Come in.” He thinks he actually _squeaks_ when Rey slips inside, and her fingers locking the door makes his hands shake slightly. “R-Rey?”

She cocks an eyebrow. “You ran away from me.”

“I— ” There’s that fucking lump again, blocking his airway. “I didn’t—”

“Let’s not pretend that what happened didn’t happen, shall we? I’d rather have a rational discussion about it.”

How is she _actually_ nineteen? He feels like a fourteen-year-old when she is around. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t you, it’s just that I—”

“You were embarrassed.”

He feels his ears burn, and the lump in his throat threatens to choke him. “Can you blame me?”

“Not really,” she admits. “I _can_ blame you for running out on me without talking about it though.”

He blows out an exasperated breath, looking away from her. “What is there to talk about?”

“I don’t know. When an almost thirty-year-old man comes in his pants after I barely touch him, I consider that pretty noteworthy.”

“Are you here to make fun of me?”

“Not at all. I’m here to get answers.”

“What sort of answers?”

“We can start with the most obvious question. _Why?_ Has it been awhile?”

He laughs. Actually laughs. What a question. “Yes. You could say that.”

“So, I’m just too much for you then, is it?”

She’s grinning now, like she’s telling a joke, and he can’t help but frown back at her. He doesn’t find it very funny. “You are absolutely too much for me.”

“There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you aren’t telling me.”

She’s closed the distance between her and his desk now, her nails tapping against the surface as she peers down at him. He shakes his head. “No. There’s nothing else.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re lying to me, Mr. Solo.”

It’s seven in the morning. Entirely too early for him to be fighting a boner under his desk. Then again, is there _ever_ an appropriate time to be fighting a boner under your desk? “I’m not… lying.”

“I think you are.” She is moving around the desk now, her nail trailing over the wood as she circles like a bird of prey. Why does he always feel like prey when she’s around? The tight fabric of her pencil skirt distracts him, doing nothing for the ravenous beast that is his dick.

“I am?” He barely even registers his reply.

She’s just beside him now, leaning over the desk chair she’s turned to face her as her hands brace on either arm. Again he finds himself trying to blend into his surroundings, failing to flee as she nears. The gap in her blouse offers the swell of her breasts, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

“Tell the truth, Mr. Solo. Have you ever been with a woman before?”

_There it is._ The one question that he never wants to hear. The one that haunts him at night. He is practically choking now, words dying on his tongue and his eyes wide with panic. Still she comes closer, and _again_ he finds himself under her attention with an aching erection.

_I’m going to come again, aren’t I?_

He wants to cry a little, but wouldn’t that be the nail in his coffin? Ben Solo, comes in his pants and then cries about it. Forget Europe, he’d be bound for the afterlife. It would be the only place where he would be safe.

“Tell me,” she croons, smiling as if it were her birthday and he was her present.

He closes his eyes. “No. No, I haven’t.”

Again he is transported back to his college dorm, the shame that scarred him forever coursing through him, the woman who irreparably damaged his psyche at the forefront of his mind.

“Mm,” she hums. “So I take it you have a problem… holding back? Is that it?”

_Did you seriously just—_

He can’t get that woman’s voice out of his head, preparing himself for a similar berating that will surely only send him into further self-deprecation that will carry on for the rest of his days. He can only nod back at her in shame.

She is quiet for several moments, and his eyes are still shut tight, too embarrassed to look at her. Will she use this information against him? Blackmail him? He finds himself afraid to find out.

He isn’t prepared for the way her finger trails over the outline of his cock, his eyes flying open to take in her wicked grin as she leers down at him. “You know… I bet I can help you with that.” She applies a slight pressure at the head of him, rolling her finger in a circle only to pull it away abruptly.

“I think… you need a teacher, Mr. Solo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is going to get really dirty really fast I fear. When you’re taking references from the dungeons of reddit and pornhub... what chance does it even stand?


	2. Close, But No Cigar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I didn’t know I needed a Dom Rey but fuck if she isn’t giving me life.

Surely he is dreaming. Surely _Rey_ didn’t just find out that he is not only a virgin— but a chronic victim of being _quick on the draw—_ and instead of laughing herself silly, sunk to her _knees._

“What are you doing?”

“Just going to assess what I’m working with here.”

“You’re… you’re what?”

She’s undoing the button of his pants, wrenching down the zipper and pulling the fabric apart, and he can only stare at her in a dazed shock. She peeks up at him through her lashes, her lips turning up in a grin. “You heard me.”

He glances to the door in a panic. “We can’t just—”

“ _Shh._ I locked the door, remember? Just relax.”

 _Relax._ Right. As if it is that easy. After seeing her kneeling between his legs, her fingers curling into the band of his briefs and tugging, he might never relax ever again. She raises an eyebrow, stilling. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to touch you. Not yet.”

He nods shakily. “Are you sure we should be—?”

“ _Shh_ , I said. I’ve got you.”

She pulls his underwear away slowly, freeing his needy erection and letting it spring forward. “Oh my,” she hums. “ _Look at you_. You’re really big, aren’t you?”

She hasn’t even touched him yet and he can feel his control slipping. Beads of pre-cum gather at the slit, trickling over the edge to slide over the head of him.

She lets her finger hover in the air around his cock, tracing his shape without _actually_ touching him. “How could anyone not want to touch you, looking like this?”

She lets her finger linger in the space just above the head of his cock, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she looks up at him. “I’m going to touch you now, okay? I want you to tell me if it gets to be too much.” He nods shakily, and she gives him a stern look. “I mean it, you tell me if you think you’re going to come.”

“I—I will.”

She grins, pressing her thumb and forefinger on either side of him and trailing them down his length slowly. He draws a heavy breath through his nostrils, blowing it out slowly.

“How does that feel?” He gives a jerky shake of his head, unable to really form the words. She smiles at him, her fingers closing around his cock to grip him lightly. “And that?”

He makes a noise that on any other occasion might embarrass him, but in this moment there is _nothing_ beyond her hand on him. “G-good.”

“Am I in danger down here?”

“No, I— I think I’m okay.”

“Hm.” She tightens her grip _just a fraction_ — sliding her fist downward in a pumping motion and Ben shudders all the way to his toes. When she moves to bring her hand back upwards, he realizes she absolutely _is_ in danger.

“ _Stop, stop, stop.”_

She releases him immediately, her eyes on his cock as it twitches, threatening to spill over. She bites her lip, content to watch as he struggles to regain his composure.

“See?” she starts. “That was good. You did _really_ good. Just try to calm down a little.”

He closes his eyes, doing as she asks and trying to will  his heart to stop pounding against his ribs. His cock still juts upwards, practically vibrating with the need to come, and Rey just rests her chin on her arms that are now crossed over his thighs, grinning up at him sweetly.

“How do you feel?”

He swallows, gripping the arms of his chair tight before blowing out a breath. “Maybe… a little better.”

“Good boy,” she coos. Something inside him tells him those words from her lips shouldn’t turn him on, but God help him, his cock jerks with every syllable. She lets her finger trail up the underside of him again, and he whimpers softly as she flicks the head. “Fuck, you really _are_ big. I can’t wait to get you inside me.”

He almost swallows his own tongue as the sudden image of _actually_ being inside her flashes through his mind, and he grips the chair a little tighter, pulling his lip between his teeth. She notices his discomfort, running her finger over the dewy slit of his cock slowly, her smile widening.

“But we’re going to have to fix this little problem of yours first. Can’t have you blowing your load in the first thirty seconds.” She pushes up on his thighs then, rising on her knees and scooting closer. “How about a little incentive, Mr. Solo? If you can last sixty seconds— I’ll let you fuck me over this desk.”

His mouth falls open, because _surely_ she must be joking— but she’s leaning in, her gaze never leaving his as she licks a stripe over the head of his cock. She licks her lips, offering him another wicked grin.

“Starting now, I think.”

Her lips sink down over the head of his cock without warning, sucking firmly at his glans for only a second before pushing down his length. Her mouth is pressed tightly to the throbbing skin of his cock, suctioning to him as she pushes all the way down to the base before pulling back upwards. She looks up at him again as she sinks back down, and he bites his lip so hard he fears it might bleed as he clings to every scrap of control he has.

He can feel that liquid pleasure building, churning in his balls and begging for release as blood rushes in his ears. He knows that enough time hasn’t passed, knows that there’s no way it has even been _half_ that time— but her tongue brushes along the underside of him as she sucks upwards, and her eyes are locked on his again as she suckles at the head, and there’s absolutely no hope left for him.

 _“_ Fuck, fuck, _fuck.”_

Cum pulses out of him like a breath he’s been holding, and she sputters slightly in surprise, her hand wrapping around the base of him tightly to steady him as she swallows the flood of fluids that gushes down her throat. When he is still, she pulls off of him with an obscene _pop,_ licking at the little remnants that linger at the corners of her mouth before clicking her tongue.

“Close, but no cigar I’m afraid,” she sighs.

His breath still leaves him in sharp gasps, struggling to collect himself even as he feels shame flood through him. It must register on his face, because she pushes off his thighs, leaning upwards to let her lips brush against his.

“Hey,” she murmurs softly. “It’s okay. We’ll just have to try harder next time.”

“Next time?” His voice sounds breathy, _needy_ even— it is unrecognizable to his own ears.

He feels her lips curl into a grin, and her finger traces the underside of his chin as she tilts his face to his. “Oh yes, Mr. Solo. There _will_ be a next time.”

* * *

He taps his pen against the notepad at the conference table, chewing idly at his thumbnail as he struggles to concentrate on what Luke is saying. Something about deadlines and an interview they hadn’t been able to nail down. Normally, Ben is perfectly capable of paying attention— but it’s only been six hours since Rey had been down on her knees in his office, and he can’t seem to get the image of her lips around his cock out of his head.

 _Distracting_ doesn’t even begin to cover it. He is _engrossed._

Every time he allows his eyes to close he can see her there, those red lips of hers sucking him down even if for only a moment. Before he’d managed to ruin it. Still, she hadn’t berated him, or even poked fun— she’d kissed him sweetly and promised another time.

The jury is still out as to whether or not Rey is even _real._

He directs his attention back to the meeting, Luke deep in conversation with Poe about a section that needs tweaking before the run date. Ben feels his phone vibrating in his pocket, and he pulls it out surreptitiously as he peeks down at it from under the table.

**Rey: What are you doing?**

He sucks in a breath as his eyes dart around the table, as if someone sitting there might actually be able to _see_ his guilt. To know what he’s done. He swallows heavily, running his thumb over the screen. He still can’t believe he even _has_ her number, but she’d insisted they exchange them that morning before she’d left his office.

He’s already starting to sweat as he types out a reply.

**Ben: In a meeting I can’t seem to pay attention to.**

It only takes a second before the dots dance across the screen, and a reply follows shortly after.

**Rey: Mm. Thinking about me?**

**Ben: Yes.**

**Rey: Such a good boy. What are you thinking about?**

His mouth falls open just a little, closing just as fast as he worriedly pulls his lip between his teeth. What is she doing? Does she expect him to answer that honestly? Is this some sort of test?

**Ben: What do you mean?**

**Rey: Don’t be shy. Tell me how you’re thinking about me. Are you thinking about my mouth on your cock?**

It takes everything in him not to groan. His breathing picks up just a little, and he angles his chair further under the table as he wills his cock to just _please, please behave._ Is she really going to do this now? It’s probably on purpose. Hell, he _knows_ it is.

**Ben: Yes.**

**Rey: It’s so big. I almost couldn’t fit the whole thing in my mouth.**

He grits his teeth so hard he fears they might crack, and everything in him screams that he put his phone away. That he is treading dangerous ground. He really should— but he’s already typing a reply.

**Ben: You’re killing me.**

**Rey: Just think of it as practice. You wouldn’t want to get hard in front of all those people would you?**

**Ben: No.**

**Rey: Then hold it in, Mr. Solo. I want you to think about my mouth on you right now.**

Far too late for that, he’s been thinking of that for that last sixty seconds or so.

**Rey: Imagine I’m under the table. I’m pulling that big cock out of your pants and licking your cockhead while everyone else is none the wiser.**

His cock is stirring, threatening to stand at attention and he silently begs his body to obey him. _Just this once._ He really _should_ put the phone away.

**Ben: Rey… I’m getting hard.**

**Rey: Control yourself. You can do this. I’m jerking you off while I suck on the end of your cock, but you’re so big my hand barely fits around the whole thing.**

Surely everyone can hear the way his breath has picked up, leaving his nostrils in deep pulls that he struggles to get under control. He sneaks a hand under the table, covering his cock and squeezing to try and get it under control.

**Ben: What would you do then?**

He’s a glutton for punishment. A goddamned masochist.

**Rey: I already sucked you off once. Maybe you’d want to come somewhere else? Maybe I’d pull off my shirt and let you come on my tits.**

He squeezes his dick to the point of pain— throbbing against his hand through his slacks as leans as far over the table as he can to hide his predicament.

**Ben: Can I see them? Next time?**

He doesn’t know where this fit of bravery is coming from, but she reduces him to this needy creature who can think of nothing beyond her and what she might do to him. When her next text comes through, it takes all he has not to start hyperventilating.

**Rey: You can see them right now.**

An image comes through not seconds later, her tanned body tucked away in what looks to be a company bathroom stall. Her very tanned, very _nude_ body— at least from the waist up. Her shoulders are scattered with a smattering of freckles, creeping over her collarbones and down her chest as they meet with the tiny swell of her breasts.

They are small— but instead of being any sort of deterrent— they leave Ben wondering if he might be able to fit the whole thing in his mouth. Her pert little nipples jut out slightly in the open air, and he wants nothing more in that moment than to touch them. To feel them against his tongue.

By the now-raging monster inside his pants—it is safe to say that his cock agrees wholeheartedly with this plan.

“Ben? You okay?”

He snaps his head up to meet the eyes of the people at the other end of the table, his uncle eyeing him curiously. Ben is fairly certain he is sweating again, and his mouth parts slightly as he struggles to come up with some sort of explanation. He has never been so grateful for a table, the one he’s currently seated at the only thing keeping him from the biggest embarrassment of his career.

“I’m actually feeling a little worse for wear. I don’t think my lunch is agreeing with me.”

Luke looks concerned. “Do you need to excuse yourself? I can give you a rundown later.”

Ben nods just a little too eagerly. “That would be great. I’ll come find you in a little while.”

Luke returns his nod as he turns back to finish his conversation, and Ben reaches quickly to tuck his cock into the waistband of his slacks as slyly as he can before standing. He holds his notepad tightly to the front of his pants, making a beeline for the door to the conference room and quickly leaving as he stomps a straight line to the nearest restroom.

He only breathes easily again when he is safely locked away in a stall, first checking to ensure he is alone in the bathroom before he pulls out his phone out again. He knows he should be practicing restraint— knows Rey expects this of him, but his cock is _screaming_ for relief as it strains against his waistband.

He jerks at his zipper as quickly as he can, pushing his slacks down his thighs and freeing his needy erection as he wraps a hand tightly around it. He leans over the toilet, his eyes glued to the tiny screen of his phone as he drinks in the sight of her bare chest, committing it to memory.

His strokes are rough and uneven as he pumps his cock, gulping in heavy lungfuls of air as he works himself over. He comes in the toilet in an embarrassingly short time— and isn’t that the problem to begin with? He’s definitely not doing anything to aid his predicament. How can he restrain himself when she shows him things like _that?_

He notices she’s texted him again, and he leans against the stall door to read even as his pants remain askew around his hips.

**Rey: Still in your meeting?**

He almost wants to lie, but for some reason that doesn’t feel right. Being dishonest with her when she’s been so understanding feels wrong.

**Ben: I’m in the bathroom.**

**Rey: Did you jerk off?**

**Ben: Yes.**

**Rey: So bad. What am I going to do with you?**

**Ben: I don’t know. What ARE you going to do with me?**

She probably thinks he’s flirting with her, but if she could see his worried expression, she would know she scares the shit out of him just as much as she drives him fucking insane.

**Rey: I think you need to be punished a little. You’ve been a bad boy.**

He doesn’t know if he’s terrified or exhilarated, but _fuck—_ he wants to know exactly what that means.

**Ben: Punished?**

**Rey: Mhm. Come over tonight.**

**Ben: To your house?**

**Rey: Yes. I’ll text you my address. 7. Don’t be late, Mr. Solo.**

He gives her his agreement, because what the fuck else is he going to do, say _no?_ Hardly. He situates his slacks, buttoning them back in place and tucking his phone back into his pocket as he lets his head rest against the bathroom stall door. He blows out a shaking breath, his mind already reeling with what Rey’s _punishment_ might entail.

He can’t believe he just sent dirty text messages _mid-meeting_ in a room full of people. Technically, it had mostly been _Rey_ doing most of the texting— but he’d done absolutely nothing to discourage it. If someone had told him a week ago that this is what he’d be doing he’d have laughed in their face.

He doesn’t know what sort of person Rey is turning him into, but he’s beginning to realize he might not be able to say no to this woman.

What’s worse— he doesn’t even _want_ to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P u n i s h m e n t


	3. Punishment

Ben isn’t sure why he even tried to focus the rest of the day, his thoughts returning to _I think you need to be punished a little_ every time he allows them to wander.  He doesn’t know what to expect, but he knows that whatever it is, he will welcome it. Of this much he is sure. He is fairly certain he will let Rey do whatever she fucking wants at this point— and if that is pathetic, then he will gladly bear that cross.

He’s standing on her porch now, having been in the same spot for at least seven minutes as he tries to work up the nerve to ring her doorbell. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous in his entire life. The feeling is laced with an underlayer of excitement however, and that alone is the only reason he had been able to work up the nerve to come at all. Taking a deep breath, he presses the doorbell, hearing it sound from inside and knowing there isn’t any going back now.

He’d spent entirely too much time picking out something to wear to this affair, and even to him he knows this is ridiculous. Besides, what does one wear to something like this? He feels like something uncomfortable and very leather-centric is probably more appropriate. He laughs a little to himself, knowing there isn’t a chance in hell he would ever be caught in something like that.

Oh God.

What if _Rey_ wears something like that?

This particular revelation is still coursing through him even as the door opens, and he is both relieved and mildly disappointed to find that she is dressed normally. No leather to be found. Although, her flowing navy dress is appealing in another way.

She leans against the door frame, giving him a sly grin. “You came.”

He nods slowly, ringing his hands in front of him anxiously. “I said I would.”

She shrugs. “I half-expected to have to come after you.”

He tells himself this is a joke, but deep down… he’s not entirely sure she’s kidding. There isn’t much he doesn’t believe she would do at this point. She moves to the side, gesturing past her and he steps through the door to enter her house.

It is small, much smaller than his own apartment, but already it seems so much homier than where he sleeps. Scattered shelves in various colors are strewn about the living room, each filled to the brim with random knick knacks he’s half-sure she must have found at flea markets. It somehow _works_ here, and against all reason he finds it is _exactly_ what he would expect of her home.

He hears the door shut behind him just before small hands slide over his hips, wrapping around his middle to smooth upwards over his chest. The warmth of her body is pressed against his back, and he tenses slightly in her hold.

She hums softly as her cheek presses against his back. “Did you eat?”

“Did I what?” It’s hard to concentrate on what she’s saying when she’s so close like this.

Her nose brushes back and forth against his spine, and he hears her inhale deeply as her palm begins to trace back downwards over his abdomen. “I asked if you ate.”

“Oh.” Her fingers are toying with his waistband, and he’s having a hard time keeping his focus. When one trimmed nail dips below to scrape at bare skin beneath, his entire body jerks. “ _Yes._ I ate.”

“Good. Have to keep your strength up.” She drags a finger across the entire expanse of his lower abdomen. “Did you do the other thing we talked about?”

He sucks in a sharp breath when that same finger suddenly presses beneath his underwear to skirt along the base of his cock, and he leans back into her without thinking, unable to formulate a reply.

She lightly scratches there with a nail, and he jolts. “I asked you a question, Mr. Solo. You’re not being very forthcoming.”

“ _Yes._ I jerked off.”

“Good boy.” She presses a kiss to the center of his back, and then her arms are retreating as her hands fall away. “It will take the edge off.”

He groans as she steps around, hooking a finger into his belt loop and tugging as she urges him to follow her. He can’t help but stare at the way her dress flutters around her legs when she walks, and he fantasizes briefly about tugging it over her head. About seeing _all_ of her.

Already he feels his cock stirring, and he knows this isn’t a good sign. He’d actually jerked off _twice—_ hoping that maybe that would result in some sort of cum shortage that might give him a fighting chance. He quietly sends every encouraging thought down between his legs— silently begging it to behave. To heed him.

When he first steps into Rey’s bedroom, he finds it just as neatly cluttered as her living room. Posters on the wall in an orderly fashion, remnants of vacations past, pictures on the mirror that he’d like to study later— if only to know her better. He is distracted when she turns to face him, wheeling him around and urging him to sit at the edge of her bed.

She leans into him, her mouth hovering over his as she pulls gently at his bottom lip with her teeth. “I’m really glad you came, Mr. Solo.”

“You are?”

“Mhm. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“You have?”

“ _All day._ You in that meeting. So hard for me even though you shouldn’t be. You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you?”

His mouth falls open as his brain short-circuits a little, unable to focus on anything save for the way her fingers are working the buttons of his shirt, slowly unfastening them. Her lips move over his jaw as she works, mouthing soft kisses along the stubble there.

“Answer me, Mr. Solo. Have you been bad?”

He swallows heavily. “I have. I’ve been very bad.”

“Bad boys deserve to be punished. Don’t you think that’s what you deserve?”

Any lingering traces of shame he has are now located somewhere on the floor of her bedroom, crumpled with his discarded shirt she’s just pushed over his shoulders and tossed aside. Her fingers toy with the edge of his undershirt, shifting it slightly in a teasing manner as her teeth find his earlobe to nip softly.

“I—” How can she expect him to respond when she’s sucking at his earlobe like that?

“You…?” She moves lower to let her lips hover against his throat instead, and her fingers push under his shirt to trail over his abdomen. “Use your words, Mr. Solo.”

“I do,” he chokes out. “I deserve it.”

“You deserve what?” She blows a cool stream of air against the warm wet patch she’s just made on his throat and he shivers all over at the sensation.

“I deserve—” He swallows heavily. “I deserve to be punished.”

“That’s right,” she all but purrs. “Now I want you to strip for me.”

“You want me to… strip.”

“That’s right. Everything off.”

She backs away from him, leaning against her desk nearby and waving a hand as if motioning him to get on with it. He reaches for his undershirt, never tearing his gaze from hers as he pulls it over his head. Rey only studies his bare chest, her eyes roving over his skin appreciatively as he tosses it to the floor.

Inside he is screaming. He doesn’t know where this will end. Is this really how he will lose his virginity? In some sort of punishment scenario?

Better yet— is he really getting picky?

“Now the pants,” she murmurs.

He nods, rising to his feet to undo his belt as he pulls it from the loops. His pants join it on the floor, and he hesitates for a moment when he reaches for his underwear.

He hasn’t been nude in front of another person since… well. Since that first time. Anxiety flares up in him, and his fingers still at the waistband as he chews on his lip.

She must sense his hesitation, must sense how unsure he is, and she takes a slow step towards him.

“Don’t be shy.” She comes to stand in front of him, reaching to palm his hardening cock through the thin material of his briefs. He sucks in a breath as he instinctively thrusts into her hand, and she traces his length slowly. “I want this,” she assures him. “I want you to show me that pretty cock of yours.”

He groans, his dick twitching in her hand and a very obvious wet spot forming as pre-cum leaks outs. She presses her thumb there— just a little _too_ hard and _fuck_ if it doesn’t have his thighs shaking a little.

She bats his hands away then, hooking her slim fingers into the band of his briefs and slowly easing them down his legs until they drop to his feet. She hums softly as her hands move over his abdomen, running over every muscle before lowering to let one finger trace up the underside of his cock.

“It’s a crime,” she sighs. “That you keep all this hidden away. Just _look at you._ ”

And she is. Looking at him. Looking as if she wants to devour him. As if she just _wants him._ It makes rational thought very difficult.

She presses up on her toes, her lips at his ear. “Now be good for me and get on my bed.”

He swallows, nodding as her hand reaches around to squeeze his ass and he yelps a little as he scrambles to obey. He sits at the head of her bed, leaning against the iron headboard patiently— waiting for whatever it is she has planned. Positively _ecstatic_ for it. Whatever it is, he wants it. He wants whatever Rey will give him.

She gives him a coy grin when he’s settled, shaking her head a little before turning to rifle through her bedside table. His eyes widen when he sees what she’s pulled out, tugging at a bundle of some silky material.

“Arms up, Mr. Solo.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Arms up.”

He raises his arms slowly, following her instruction and placing them against the iron bars of her headboard. She begins to tie each wrist to a bar, pulling softly when she’s done to make sure he isn’t go anywhere.

He feels helpless— and yet his body thrums with an excitement he’s never felt. He is completely at her mercy like this. He tugs at his bonds, finding the knots tight and leaving him completely trapped at the head of her bed.

“I like you like this,” she sighs. She circles a finger around the head of his cock, and even the lightest touch has his twitching in anticipation. He has no idea how she expects him to last even a second with all of this going on. She’s barely touched him and he’s on the edge. He’s fighting a losing battle here. Her grin turns wicked, and she takes a step back to reach behind her, seeking the zipper on her dress. “My turn, I think.”

He almost swallows his tongue when she reaches for the hem, pulling her dress slowly over her head, and he realizes quickly she is wearing absolutely _nothing_ beneath it.

He pulls at his ties on instinct, his body screaming to be _closer_ to her. He doesn’t even know where to look first. Her pink nipples again leave him with the urge to taste them, and he lets his tongue dart out to wet his lips as he drinks in the sight of them. She moves towards the bed, and he lets his eyes travel over the flat of her stomach, lingering on the swell of her hips to settle over the neat patch of curls between her legs that cover her cunt.

His cock is so hard it’s painful, struck all at once with the need to be inside her. He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. He then remembers why he’s even _here_ , knowing he’d more than likely be unable to last even a minute inside her and honestly, isn’t that the most depressing thing there is?

He finds it hard to breathe as she crawls over the bed, her thighs settling over his and he can _see_ the soft pink of her cunt as her legs spread. She lets her fingers toy with his hip bones, tracing their shape with her thumbs as she leans to kiss him.

She is somehow so close and yet so _impossibly_ far— feeling the warmth of her over his thighs and yet keeping her distance.

“I asked you to be good for me,” she hums, licking at his lower lip. “And what did you do?”

He’s panting, so incredibly hard he can barely see straight. “I was bad.”

“You touched yourself, didn’t you.”

“ _Yes_ ,” he whines, his cock twitching violently. “I touched myself.”

“Do you think you deserve to fuck me?”

He is a little surprised by the question. He senses there is a right answer here. “I… no?”

“That’s right,” she breathes. “You don’t. Besides… we still have your little problem. Don’t we.”

He groans, hating the reminder of how inadequate he is. She shushes him, reaching to tracing his lip with her thumb. “It’s okay. We’re going to make it all better. As long as you can behave.”

“I… I can behave.”

She shifts, inching just a little further up his thighs and he grits his teeth in anticipation. “Are you sure, Mr. Solo? Are you _sure_ you can be good for me?”

“I can be so good,” he grates, and she moves just another fraction of an inch. Her cunt is so near his aching cock that he can feel the warmth of her, and he rolls his hips in a seeking motion to try and get closer.

“So eager,” she tuts. “You don’t run the show here.”

He stills, nodding a little and trying to be as still as he can. He just needs her to _do_ something _. Anything,_ really. Her fingers lower to trace up the length of him, and his mouth parts as his eyes roll back as she pulls her hand away just as quickly.

“Same rules. You tell me when you’re about to come.”

“Okay.”

She moves another inch, and suddenly warm wet is pressed right against his stiff cock and he almost comes right then.

“ _Fuck.”_

“Shh,” Rey soothes. “Be still. You’re going to get me off like this.”

“H-how can I?”

She leans, pressing a kiss to his mouth as she smiles back at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work.”

“How is this a punishment?”

Her smile widens, and she rolls against his cock, causing him to moan embarrassingly loud. “The punishment is… you don’t get to touch me.”

When she puts it like that… it does sound a little like torture. His fingers itch to move over her skin, to feel that same slick heat pressed against his cock.

She rocks forward again, sliding against his cock as it flattens to his abdomen. His head lolls forward in pleasure, and he’s so happy he jerked off before he got here. He wants this to last as long as it can.

She gasps as she grinds down against the head of his cock, her eyes shutting in pleasure and he has to bite his lip so hard he fears it might bleed. She looks so fucking _good_ like this—  using him for her own pleasure. Paired with the sensation of her slick cunt on his cock and he isn’t sure how he hasn’t fell apart already.

She repeats the same motion, his glans catching against the little nub he _knows_ is there and _fuck—_ he wants to see it. Wants to feel it against his tongue and his fingers. He clenches his fists.

“ _Rey,”_ he whines. “If you keep doing that—”

“Ben,” she chides. “We just got started. Can’t you hold it for me? Just for a little bit?”

He nods heavily, every muscle in his body taut as he strains to contain himself. He’s half-certain this is how he will die. Rey-related circumstances seems about right.

She begins a steady pace over his cock, gliding over his length as she uses him. His head falls back against the headboard, feeling something building already that threatens to ruin him.

When she moans quietly, grinding down again, he almost loses it. “ _Rey.”_

She stops suddenly, and it’s both a blessing and complete agony, but he can feel it— _right there._ He hangs his head slightly, hating that he can’t seem to hold it in but she only leans forward to kiss him.

“It’s okay,” she assures sweetly. “You’re doing so good.”

“I am?”

“Yes, sweet boy. You’re doing amazing. It just takes practice.”

“Okay.”

She leans backwards then, flashing a mischievous grin. “Maybe I should help a little.”

Her fingers glide over her abdomen as she sits back on his thighs, parting her cunt. He’s pretty sure his eyes are wide enough to look crazed, but her fingers are sinking inside her and he can’t really focus on much else but that.

“Do you know how good it will feel? When you’re inside me?”

He thinks he might be nodding, but he can’t be sure.

Rey presses deep as her mouth parts slightly. “You’ll stretch me so _much. Fuck—_ I can’t wait.”

She withdraws, dragging her fingers upwards to settle over her clit as she holds herself apart with her other hand. He can see _everything—_ the way her little fingers begin to work at the swollen bud, and even though she isn’t touching him anymore, it is difficult not to come.

She works herself steadily, never taking her eyes off him as she rubs quick circles into her clit. Her mouth parts in pleasure as her eyes flutter closed, and she jolts a little as her breath quickens.

“I’m close,” she breathes, “but I want to come together.”

“ _Please,”_ he whispers. He needs that more than anything.

She makes a series of passes over her clit, shaking a little before she finally drops her hand to slide over tohim again. She pulls his face to hers, and he can feel her wet fingers against his jaw and _that_ is downright sinful.

She’s moving in a frenzy now, grinding against his cock roughly as her tongue snakes inside his mouth to kiss him furiously. He’s so close, he’s _right fucking there—_ and he hopes by all that’s holy her erratic breathing means she’s close too.

Feeling her tremble against him is everything he could have hoped for, her thighs shaking and her cunt slick and _so warm._ It’s enough that he _finally_ lets go— his cock spasming against her center that still rocks against him. He comes in a series of heavy spurts, making a mess of his abdomen as he grits his teeth to ride it out.

She’s still kissing him, sweetly now, her hands reaching to work at the ties around his wrists as they finally fall free. He isn’t sure what to do with them at first, but her lips on his are so soft and so much gentler than before— and he can’t help but let his fingers rest against the soft swell of her hips.

It’s almost… tender. Which is completely surreal given the obscenity of what’s just happened— but he almost likes it better than her making him come. Not that he would tell _her_ that.

“You did so good, Mr. Solo,” she coos.

He clears his throat. “You could… call me Ben. If you wanted.”

She smiles wide, her eyes crinkling at the corners before she leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Maybe. If you’re good.”

He shivers a little, not knowing at this point whether or not he wants to be good or bad. He doesn’t know who Rey is turning him into— but he never wants it to end.

He is— at least in _this_ way— completely fucked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even think this thing will ever get a real plot I’m just working through something right now guys. 😂


	4. Something You’re Good At

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I write any level of porn without some type of feels creeping in? Don’t answer that.

Work is near impossible.

It’s been three days since he’d seen her house. Three days since he’d seen _all of her_ as well, and he’s thought of little else since. He can’t seem to get her out of his head. He falls asleep thinking of the swell of her hips and wakes thinking of the curve of her breasts and his mind is _consumed_ with the pretty pink of her cunt for every moment in between.

They hadn’t done more that night. Rey hadn’t offered, and he’d learned at that point that she calls the shots. She _had_ let him stay, however, and falling asleep with his arms around her might have been just as nice as the alternative. He’d never noticed how small she was— so normally heightened by those fucking heels that drive him insane— until he had her curled into his front, perfectly fit to him.

It had been… nice. For lack of a better word.

And the next morning, when he’d woken up hard and insistent against her because, well, _morning—_ she’d just smiled, crawling down his body to give him her mouth. Needless to say, _that_ had been nice as well.

Only now he hasn’t seen her in three days. He has hardly heard from her either, and all he can do is stress that he’s done something wrong. Maybe she’s bored of him now.

He can’t exactly _fault_ her there— but he can’t help the sense of loss that thought instills in him.

He realizes he doesn’t know much about her, outside of this thing they’ve been doing. Whatever it is. What surprises him (albeit only slightly) is just how much he _wants_ to know about her. He wants to know every single thing there is to know about her.

He’s leaning back in his desk chair, the day long over and most of the people in the office having already went home. He knows he should get going also, but instead he’s just been sitting here wallowing and debating texting her again.

He’s trying so very hard not to seem desperate.

Even if he is.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, pulling up another thread instead.

**Ben: What is our policy on interoffice relationships?**

**Luke: Has hell frozen over then?**

**Ben: …**

**Luke: I’m just jerking your chain. Who are we talking about here?**

**Ben: Does it matter?**

**Luke: It might.**

**Ben: She’s not… actually employed here yet.**

**Luke: Then what’s the problem?**

**Ben: She very much wants to be… after she finishes her internship.**

**Luke: OH. Wow. Really going for the gold there, aren’t you?**

**Ben: I don’t know why I even texted you.**

**Luke: I’m KIDDING. Okay, well… the official stance is they aren’t allowed within the same department, especially between management and normal staff.**

**Ben: I thought so.**

He feels disappointment flood him, knowing it was probably a stupid idea anyway. It isn’t as if Rey would even _want_ anything more than what they’re doing. She’ll eventually grow tired of this game she’s playing, she’ll get bored, and that will be that. It’s probably better this way.

**Luke: But… since I fully plan to snatch her for MY department the minute she graduates… I don’t see how it’s a problem.**

His gloom morphs into elation, his heart thudding in his chest.

**Luke: But don’t you dare do anything dirty in this building. If I’m not getting any here, no one is.**

Ben gags as he shakes his head, tossing his phone back to his desk as he tries to force _that_ image from his head. He stifles a groan, realizing that even _Luke_ has gotten more than he has. Sometimes the universe isn’t fucking fair.

He lets his head fall against his desk, huffing out a sigh. Still, his talk with Luke had yielded _something_ at least. He could ask Rey out, if he wanted to. He could ask her on an _actual_ date and maybe he could—

But what if she said no?

What if she _doesn’t_ have any interest beyond what they’re doing?

He should be grateful she’s having anything to do with him at all, really. Should be content with what he _has_ for her. Should be content with whatever she _allows_ him. But he isn’t, he realizes. He wants more. He wants _everything._

He just has to figure out how to ask her.

Has to _hope_ there’s a _chance_ she’ll say yes.

A buzzing across his desk pulls him from his musings, and he looks up from where he’s had his face flat against the wood to find his phone giving an alert. He sits up to grab for it, feeling a flutter in his chest when he sees it is a text from _her._

**Rey: where are you**

**Ben: In my office.**

**Rey: Good. I’ll be right there.**

His stomach gives a little swooping sensation at the thought of her coming there, his body seemingly now trained to react just at the _idea_ of her. He wonders if he’ll ever stop being nervous around her, and he quickly decides that _no, probably not._

She pushes into his office not ten minutes later, immediately locking the door and crossing the space, and he’s so fucking grateful suddenly that he lingered at the end of the day. He’s rarely seen her dressed so casually, simple sweats and a t-shirt and her hair in a messy bun— and somehow he finds her just as stunning like this as when she’s done up in those skirts designed to ruin him.

She surprises him by climbing into his lap, her fingers twisting in his hair as she pulls his mouth to hers for a bruising kiss. He melts into it, because what else can he do, groaning softly when her tongue slips inside to tangle with his.

Her legs straddle over his, pushed against his chest, and he lets his arms encircle her to pull her even closer. For a moment he can only get lost in the feel and taste of her tongue, the magnitude of just how much he’d _missed_ her in such a short time hitting him all at once.

Then realization sinks in— how tense she is, the sour expression when she walked in the door, even the aggressive way she’s kissing him seems to be a tell.

He breaks away, breathing too hard and bringing his hands to her jaw to cup there, studying her face.

“Are you okay?”

Her lips press into a tight line just before she blows out a stream of air, rolling her eyes. “It’s just been a shitty week so far.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’d rather kiss you some more.” He frowns, and she huffs a little before shrugging. “I don’t know. I didn’t get the grade I wanted on a paper and then my professor was a _total_ jackass about it. I’m pretty sure he hates me. Then I’ve just been so fucking _busy_ these last few days and I just sort of missed you and—”

“You missed me?”

He imagines his surprise is written all over his face, and her irritated expression softens somewhat. “Yes. I did.”

He can’t help the way his mouth curls, just as much as he can’t help that it widens when hers does the same. “I missed you, too.”

Her grin turns wicked then. “Did you now.” She leans in, licking at his lower lip before letting her teeth graze it, and his eyes flutter closed when she rolls her hips into him. “Maybe you can make my day better.”

“Anything,” he breathes, knowing it’s true. He’ll do anything she asks.

She pushes away from his chest, her legs sliding to let her feet fall to the floor. She reaches for the band of her sweatpants, and his eyes widen as she pulls them over her thighs, her underwear trailing behind.

“What are you—?”

“Teaching you something.”

Ben swallows, watching her hop onto his desk, naked from the waist down. He feels his chest grow tight when she spreads her legs, her thighs parting so that he can see _everything—_ and already he can feel his cock swelling from the _sight_ of her.

“Do you want to use your mouth on me, Ben?”

_Ben._

He doesn’t know what’s making him harder, her bare cunt open and wet or the way she says his name so sweetly.

“Please.” He isn’t even embarrassed at the slight whine in his voice, sounding every bit as needy as he feels.

“Good,” she croons. “I’m going to tell you how. Come here.”

She tugs softly at the hair against his nape, urging him closer, and he can hear the blood rushing in his ear at just the _thought_ of tasting her and what will he do when she’s against his tongue?

“I want you to use your tongue,” she urges as if reading his thoughts. “You can go slow at first. I’ll help you.”

He swallows, nodding up at her before returning his attention to her slick center— and _fuck_ if she doesn’t smell intoxicating. He wonders if that makes him odd, to enjoy the scent of her here, but it’s heady and filling his senses and all he can think about is tasting her.

He lets his eyes flick upwards for one last brief moment, Rey biting her lip and watching him heatedly, and he experimentally lets his tongue swipe along the seam of her cunt slowly as she tenses slightly.

_Fuck._

He could become addicted to that.

He repeats the motion, slower still just to savor the taste of her on his tongue. She cards her fingers through his hair, leaning back a bit as a soft hum sounds from her.

“Focus on my clit,” she murmurs. “That’s where it feels best.”

He nods against her core, dragging his tongue up her slit to flick at the tiny bud above and her mouth parts with a soft _ah._

 _“_ That’s it,” she croons. “A little harder.”

He does as she asks, swirling his tongue around the slick nub and he hears her breath quicken with his efforts.

“‘ _Mm.”_ Her fingers tighten their grip in his hair. “Use your lips too. Suck.”

At first it seems awkward, finding the right angle, but then he is pulling at the swollen bundle, sucking at it lightly as his tongue continues to circle it with lapping strokes.

“ _Fuck, yes.”_ She’s tugging at his hair now, pushing him closer, and he doesn’t even mind the slight pain of it. “ _Just like that.”_

_The sounds she’s making._

Sharp gasps and deep sighs and he can’t believe that _he’s doing that._ A quick glance upwards reveals Rey with her head thrown back, and he can see the way her mouth is parted and her eyes are shut tight and he so badly wants to make her feel as good as she’s made him so many times this week.

“Your fingers,” she demands breathlessly. “Inside.”

He wastes no time in obliging because _he’s thought about this so many times_ and when he slips two fingers inside— it almost knocks the wind out of him. She’s so warm and tight and _wet_ — clenching around his fingers and _fuck_ if his cock isn’t achingly hard in his slacks just thinking about what it might be like to fuck her.

He doesn’t even care that it wouldn’t last that long. He just wants to feel her like this. Wants to feel her come around his fingers and cock and tongue and he’ll do it _as many times as necessary_ to learn how to please her.

He breaks away for a moment, and she actually _whines_ and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard in his entire goddamn life.

“Why’d you—”

“I think I can do this better,” he huffs out, reaching to pull at her thighs and bring them to rest over his shoulders as he falls to his knees on the floor. She’s so much more _open_ like this— legs spread wide and fucking _nothing_ barred from his sight.

She begins to pant when he slips his fingers back inside, pushing them deep to fill her as he sucks at her clit roughly. He isn’t quite sure what to do with his fingers, mimicking what he’d _like_ to do with his cock and stroking into her. His tongue moves awkwardly against the taut bundle at her core, but he continues to experiment until a low moan escapes her and her fingers are pulling at his hair again.

 _“Yes, right there—”_ She’s babbling now, and he’s so fucking _hard_ for her that it is _painful_ and yet he just wants to _stay_ like this for the rest of his fucking _life._ “ _Yes,_ Ben. _Fuck_ — I’ve thought about this. I’ve thought about this _so much—_ that fucking _mouth_ of yours—”

Her words devolve into a series of garbled sounds— broken pleas as her back arches and _he fucking did this to her._ His movements are messy now, sucking and licking without any sort of method but Rey is too far gone to mind.

When she comes— and he is still half-stunned that she actually _comes—_ her cunt cinches his fingers and her thighs shake and her fucking _hands_ in his hair— it _wrecks_ him.

He can’t stop what he’s doing— not even when she’s pulling him away, not even when she’s _begging_ him to— he can’t pull his mouth away from her now soaked cunt. It takes a rather _forceful_ tug against his hair to pry him from her, and he’s struggling for breath as she peers down at him with wide eyes.

She pulls him from the floor, crushing her to him as her lips cover his and her tongue snakes inside. She moans softly into his mouth as she deepens the kiss, and he wonders briefly if she can taste herself because she is _all he can taste._ When they finally break apart, her breath is as labored as his.

“Well,” she rasps. “I’d say we found _something_ you’re good at.”

Something in his chest swells with her praise, and he has to suppress the urge to fall between her thighs and do it all over again. He feels her hand cup his clothed cock, and he hisses through his teeth, still very much affected by what he’s just done to her.

“Do you know how badly I want you inside me?” She palms him through his slacks, and he lets out a groan as she begins to stroke him slowly. “Would you like that, Ben?”

His head falls against her shoulder, and it takes all of his willpower to keep himself contained. “ _Rey.”_

 _“_ You’re doing a little better,” she praises. “Have you been doing what I told you?”

He thinks about the tortuous evenings in the past week where he’s touched himself until he was _almost there_ just to deny himself and _fuck—_ it’s torture just thinking about it. “Yes.”

“Maybe you need the real thing.” He feels her lips press against his throat and she gives his cock a light squeeze. “Do you want to fuck me, Ben?”

“God, _yes_ ,” he grits out, his hands gripping at the edge of the desk.

“What if I let you fuck me right here— right on your desk?”

“Fuck, Rey. I—” She gives him another squeeze, and he grunts. “ _No.”_

She stills, pulling her hand away and leaning back to look at him. “No?”

He shakes his head. “No _,_ I mean— _yes,_ but— I don’t want you on my desk.”

“You don’t want me on your desk.”

He’s making a mess of things. “I want you—” His ears feel like they’re on fucking _fire._ “I want you in my bed,” he mutters, averting his gaze. “I don’t want to have to leave you after. I want— I want to stay with you all night after. Like we did at your place.”

She cups his jaw, pulling his eyes back to hers and he is surprised by the grin she wears. “You’re really sweet, aren’t you.”

The blush is spreading now, his face heating to creep down his neck and he shrugs. “I just… want to spend more time with you.”

“You really like me, don’t you?” He bites at his lip, nodding, and she leans in to press her lips to his. “I like you, too.”

_I like you, too._

“Can I take you somewhere?” He hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but he feels so fucking _full_ in that moment and now the words are out there and he doesn’t want to take them back. “Like a date. Like an actual date.”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners with her smile, and he realizes she’s still half-naked and he’s _definitely_ still hard but the moment still feels… sweet somehow.

“Okay,” she says finally. “A date.”

“Tomorrow?” He sounds a lot more eager than he means to. “If you’re free.”

“Tomorrow,” she agrees.

He breathes out a sigh of relief, having no idea where he’ll take her or how this will even go but it’s _fine_ because she said _yes_.

“And after,” she grins wickedly, leaning in. “Your bed.”

He swallows, nodding slowly as she leaves a soft kiss at his jaw. He can’t even bring himself to dwell on _that_ yet. Not when his mind whirs with ways he can make her enjoy tomorrow and make her want to do it— _all of it—_ again and again.

He can do this.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, can I go one fuckin’ chapter without referencing Ben Solo’s fucking mouth?  
> Don’t answer that either.


	5. But First, Dessert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I don’t even know anymore. I really don’t.

He’s been staring at them for them for the greater part of ten minutes.

_A tiny white box at his desk, her fingers drumming across the top and a grin at her mouth that has him both excited and terrified and isn’t that the the summation of what he feels for Rey?_

She’d asked him not to open the box until he got home, and as much as the curiosity had gnawed at him— he’d obeyed. Now he sees why. Had he known _this_ was in his pocket…

There’s a lump in his throat that threatens to choke him, and yet he isn’t… completely put off by it.

What has she _done_ to him?

He runs a finger over the fabric, the black material silky to the touch, and he shudders a little. It’s a strange and _forbidden_ feeling but not at all unwanted he finds. No, he isn’t put off by it at all. If he’s being honest.

He glances at the clock, knowing he needs to meet her soon. Looking back down at his bed, he is suddenly struck with the image that _Rey_ will be here instead later tonight.

He swallows, picking up her gift and leaving to get dressed.

She’s worth it.

* * *

She hasn’t mentioned them.

_Why hasn’t she mentioned them?_

It had been her idea. She _had_ wanted him to wear them— right? Had he misunderstood somehow? _Fuck,_ what if she finds him in them and she— what if she— _fuck._

He’s sweating a little, but what the fuck else is new?

Rey is the picture of calm, sipping at her wine as she tells him about her day and inquires about his in return. His eyes lingers on her lips around the rim of her glass, remembering those same lips around his cock and _how is he going to survive this date?_

“Is something wrong?”

He tears his eyes away from her mouth, meeting her gaze and noticing the quirk of her eyebrow, the slight smirk that is forming at her lips.

He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” She sets her glass to the table, lacing her fingers under her chin. “You look… uncomfortable. Are you uncomfortable, Ben?”

His fingers tighten around his water glass, suspended in the air as it travels to his mouth because he _knows_ then that _yes—_ she is all too-aware.

Suddenly the room is too hot.

“I’m… not uncomfortable.”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners with her smile. “That’s good to hear.” He shifts a little, betraying just how much of a liar he is, and Rey doesn’t fail to notice.

He desperately wants to change the subject. “So how did it turn out with your professor?”

She shrugs. “He’s an asshole— but thankfully I’m almost through his class. I can tough it out for a few more weeks.”

“I’m sorry that he upset you.”

Her smile is warm then. “You’re sweet.”

He blushes, shrugging his shoulders. He can’t stop glancing at her dress— a black number with a neckline that demands his attention and no matter how much he attempts to be surreptitious, he knows he is beyond transparent.

He clears his throat. “You um, look great.”

“Do I?” She leans to prop her chin on her fist.

He nods. “Yeah, that dress is… amazing.”

Her lips curl, flashing her teeth. “You should see me out of it.”

He sputters the water he’s just taken a sip of, nearly choking.

“Oh,” she keeps going. “You have though, haven’t you.”

“Rey,” he whimpers. “You’re killing me.”

“Not yet,” she grins. It’s hard to contain the groan that escapes him, but he does his best. “I can’t wait to get you out of _your_ clothes though.” He shifts because now he’s _thinking_ about it. “That reminds me…”

She unfolds her hands to lean into her side of the booth, reaching into her purse and flashing a wicked grin as she pulls out a little black device of some sort. Ben eyes it warily. “What is that?”

“The other half of your present.”

He can’t take his eyes off the… remote? It seems to be anyway. “What does it do?”

She pulls it from the table to place it back in her lap. “You’ll see.”

It’s all she gives him, and the choice to press is taken away when the waiter comes to take their orders. Rey offers hers up easily, Ben still nervously eyeing the edge of the table where the little remote has disappeared to.

He notices then the waiter is speaking to him, and he snaps his gaze back up to give his attention to rattle off his order. He sees movement in the corner of his eye when he begins to speak, Rey’s hands drifting into her lap and for a second he is distracted before he continues. Rey nods towards the waiter, one hand in her lap as the other is perched under her chin.

He only manages four more words before he feels it.

It’s not overwhelming, just a slight hum of sensation but it is _impossible_ to ignore. It vibrates against his cock and lower and he is all too-aware that Rey had a lot more in mind with her little present than just some kinky imagery. It’s enough that he jolts the second it starts up.

The waiter is staring at him, and Ben realizes then he’s just sitting there looking at Rey with his mouth hanging open. She extends a finger to point at the waiter, and he snaps his head back to give the rest of his order through gritted teeth.

He keeps as still as he can until the man leaves them alone, slumping to the table the minute he’s out of sight and allowing the soft groan he’s been holding in to slip out.

_“Rey.”_

“Hm?” She sounds so innocent. Ben has to disagree. “Something wrong?”

“What are you— _fuck.”_ His fingers grip his knees as suddenly the vibrations kick up a notch. “ _What are you doing?”_

“Think of it as another teaching exercise,” she croons. “You have a lot of motivation to hold it in here, don’t you think?”

“ _Rey,”_ he whines. He can’t say much else at this point.

Everything stops then, and he looks up with what is surely a desperate expression, his heart pounding in his ribs.

“That’s enough,” she tells him sweetly, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. Then her lips curl and her eyes crinkle and _oh no._ “For now.”

He’s not going to make it to dessert.

* * *

She picks the worst moments to turn them back on.

Or maybe the best? Ben isn’t sure. It depends on who you ask.

She flicks at the remote when the waiter returns, when he gets up to go to the bathroom— warning him not to touch himself— even when he’s trying his best to eat normally after the food has arrived.

It’s torture.

He isn’t sure why he sort of enjoys it.

It’s the anticipation, he thinks. The not knowing when she’ll next attack. It’s kept him on the edge for the entire night. The only thing keeping him sane is knowing she’s coming home with him. That she _wants_ to. It’s worth this level of torture.

It’s worth every second.

By the time dessert arrives though— Ben is nothing more than needy sensation and squirming limbs. And Rey… well.

Rey is definitely having her cake and eating it too at this point.

“Why don’t you come sit on my side of the booth?”

He glances up, finding her smiling at him sweetly and patting the seat next to her. It’s a trap— he knows that. He’s absolutely sure of it.

And yet he’s shuffling out of his side and tucking himself next to her because she _asked him to_ and he’s learning that’s really all the prompting he needs.

It’s cramped like this— Ben too big in reality to comfortably fit on the same side of the booth with her— but she tucks into his side sweetly and he find he doesn’t mind. She tucks a bit of cake onto her fork and holds it up in offering, still giving him that Cheshire grin he’s learning to be wary of.

“Here,” she offers.

He leans in slow, taking the chocolate offering and rolling it around on his tongue.

She looks at him expectantly. “Good?”

He shrugs. “I’m not very big on sweets to be honest.”

“Oh?” She cocks her head. “Maybe we should get you something else then.”

“Oh, no,” he protests. “It’s fine. I don’t usually eat dessert anyway.”

“No, that won’t do. Everyone needs dessert.”

“Rey, it’s completely fi—”

He chokes on the words when he feels her pulling at his hand under the table, hidden by the table cloth as she drags it over her thigh. His breath catches as she keeps going, the fabric of her dress bunching around his hand as she lets it settle between her legs.

“Oh God,” he groans. “You’re not— not wearing any—”

“I figured only one of us should wear panties to this date.”

Some high-pitched sound escapes him, and he doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed. She spreads her legs just enough to allow him better access, and a tentative press of his fingers reveals just how wet she is.

She’s reduced him to whimpering. “Fuck _me.”_

“Oh, I plan to,” she hums. “But first, dessert.”

She reaches beside her, clearly in search of something, and then he feels the low hum of these _fucking_ underwear and he has to choke back a moan. She has it on the lowest setting— but it’s enough to make him uncomfortable as his cock starts to twitch to life.

“Think of this as another teaching moment,” she offers. “You don’t want to come here do you?”

He shakes his head, his eyes shut tight. “No.”

“And where _do_ you want to come?”

He flicks his eyes to hers, seeing the expectant look there. “Where?”

“Yes, Ben. Where do you want to _come?”_

She kicks up the setting on the underwear, and he bites back a groan. “ _Inside you.”_

She grins as the vibrations settle back to the lowest setting. “Such a good boy. However… I think that I _would_ like to come here.” His eyes widen, and she pushes her cunt further into his hand. “I’ll turn off your present after you’ve made me come.”

“Rey— I can’t— I _can’t_ last like this.”

Her lips curl, her smile _wicked._ “Then I suggest you hurry.”

He bites his lip as he presses his fingers to her slit, running them up the seam of her in search of where he’s learned will get her there fastest. He knows he’s found it when a soft gasp escapes her, and he wastes no time in rubbing little circles into the spot. He’s scrambling— mimicking what he’s seen her do and what had worked with his tongue— and he thinks he might be doing okay, if the sounds she’s making is any indication.

Rey tries to pretend to be unaffected— even going so far as to returning to her cake. Although he thinks the tiny moans around her fork are from something else entirely.

His cock is insistent against his jeans now— begging for release as the gentle vibrations still course through him. He quickens the pace of his hand, thankful that they are tucked away in the corner of the restaurant. If someone found them like this it wouldn’t be hard to figure out what they were doing.

It’s amazing that he doesn’t even care.

Even with the way his cock _aches_ he’s more concerned with that flush at her cheeks or that quickness of her breath. He just wants to see her come. He wants to know he did it.

 _“Right there,”_ she breathes, turning to press her face into his shoulder.

He rubs at her clit furiously, the angle awkward and his wrist aching but _he_ _doesn’t care._ He doesn’t even know if he really cares if he comes right now. He finds there isn’t a lot he cares about outside of Rey these days.

When she begins to tremble, a soft moan escaping her against his shirt, he dips his hand to press two fingers inside her. He’s addicted to the way her tight channel clenches his fingers. The way her inside tremble and he hasn’t stopped thinking about what it will be like when—

The vibrations have stopped.

He hadn’t even noticed at first.

“I’d say you won that round,” she hums, peeking up at him coyly.

He’s still a little drunk on what’s just happened, and he pushes deeper inside her to coat his fingers. The sound she makes threatens to tear him apart.

“Just think,” she breathes into his ear. “Later this will be your cock.”

Ben whimpers a little. “What if I— what if I can’t—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Her voice is a brush of warmth against the shell of his ear. “You’re going to fuck me as many times as it takes. I’m going to let you come inside me _as many times_ as you need to. Until you get the hang of it.”

 _“Rey,”_ he groans. “Can we— can we get out of here?”

She grins. “Yes.”

He moves to withdraw his hand, his singular focus now on getting the check and getting her _out of here._ She grabs his wrist before he can fully pull it away from between her thighs, tugging it out from under the table herself. She bites her lip as she pulls his hand to his face.

“But first,” she offers in a low voice that betrays her own eagerness. “Your dessert.”

His eyes widen as she urges his fingers to his mouth, and he wraps his lips around them to suck. A satisfied sound resonates deep in his chest, her flavor on his tongue and his mind on where he’s _been._ Where he’ll _be._

He has to get her fucking out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so horny for this dumb story and I cannot for the life of me figure out why. 
> 
> Now I have to figure out how soft dom Rey takes a man’s virginity.


	6. Sweet Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re having cherries for dessert. 🥰

The drive to his house is the longest one he’s ever experienced in his entire life.

Partially because Rey continues to _touch him—_ continues to tell him filthy things he’s never dreamed he’d hear and his knuckles may never regain all of the color he’d lost as he’d gripped the steering wheel.

But she’s here now— in his _space._

She walks around his living room, taking in his bookshelves and his pictures on the walls and all he can think about is that she’s _bare_ underneath that dress. But he wills himself to be still. To be _patient._

“This is a nice place,” she remarks, looking at him over her shoulder. “Clean.”

“Boring, you mean.”

She grins. “It reminds me of you— and you are not boring. That’s for sure.” He swallows, watching as she turns to close the distance between them. She presses against his front and trails her fingers over his shirt. “But I’m more interested in your room.”

His chest is tight. He can’t tell if he’s breathing. He might be panicking a little. Surely she can see it all over his face. “I—” His eyes flick nervously to the hallway. “It’s down there.”

She’s still smiling as she takes his hand, tugging him down the hall and finding the door to his bedroom easily. She looks so small in this room— so petite and _tiny_ and he is struck with all sorts of wicked images that include his hands and his body and his _cock_ and his skin practically vibrates with a need for it.

“You’re shaking,” she points out quietly. “Are you nervous?”

He nods slowly, because there is no point in lying. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Sweet boy,” she coos. “Don’t worry. This is going to be amazing. For _both_ of us.”

“What if I—”

She takes a step, reaching for the buttons of his shirt and beginning to undo them slowly, effectively silencing him. She presses a kiss to the bit of bare skin she reveals beneath, flicking her tongue there. “Do you remember the restaurant? How _wet_ I was?”

His eyes are closed— focusing on her hands and her tongue as she reveals more of him under his shirt, but he manages a nod.

“I’m always wet when you’re around,” she tells him. “Always thinking about what it would be like if you were inside me.” She pushes the now-undone shirt over his shoulders— tossing it to the floor as she moves to his pants next. “And now that I know what your cock looks like— so fucking _big_ and _pretty—_ it’s all I think about.” His pants are undone, pushed down around his hips as she strokes at his hard cock through his the silk he still wears. “Trust me when I say— this is going to be _amazing.”_

He thrusts into her hand lightly, whimpering a little. “ _Rey.”_

 _“_ I like these on you,” she tells him quietly— tracing the shape of him through the black fabric. “Do they feel good?”

“It’s… a tight fit.”

She grins as she presses her thumb against where the head of his cock rests. “I like that. I like that _a lot_. Your cock looks good like this. I think we’ll do this again.”

Words are impossible in this moment— but he thinks he makes some enthusiastic sound. She gives him a light squeeze.

“Undress me,” she urges.

His eyes fly open. “What?”

“You heard me.” She takes a step away from him— taking the warmth of her hand with her. “Undress me.”

He approaches her with caution, hands shaking and blood boiling as he reaches for the hem of her dress. He inches it up slow— enjoying every bit of tanned skin revealed to him. He holds his breath when the dark patch of neat curls comes into view— forcing himself to continue until her smooth stomach and pert tits and _all of her_ is bare to his eyes.

She takes a step when she’s nude— a strangled sound escaping him when her nipples brush along his chest as she helps him finish stepping out of his jeans and that god-forsaken _present_ she’s asked him to wear. He isn’t sure what to do— now that it’s nothing but their skin and the _warmth_ of it. He feels her hands at his hips, moving to reach for his cock, stroking him lightly.

She twists her hand, pulling a gasp from him. “What do you say we give you a head start?”

It’s hard for him to focus, when she’s touching him like this. “A head start?”

“I want you to show me how you do it.” She reaches for his hand to urge him to take over where she’s touching him. “I want you to make yourself come.”

He doesn’t know why the thought embarrasses him— after everything he’s experienced with this woman— but he finds himself hesitant. She presses up on her toes, planting a kiss at the corner of his mouth and grinning.

“Go on,” she urges. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

He reaches for his cock slowly, wrapping a fist around it as she glances between them to watch.

“That’s it,” she sighs. “Just like that. Do you think of me when you do this?”

He pumps into his fist, nodding. “Yes.”

“Mm, what do you think about?”

He falters. “What?”

“I want to know what you think about,” she presses. “What about me exactly?”

He groans, trying not to focus on the fact that she’s watching him abuse himself. “Those skirts you wear.”

“You think about my ass?”

He nods. “A lot.”

“Maybe I’ll let you fuck it one day,” she purrs.

 _“Rey.”_ God, even with _himself_ he’s not going to last long.

“What else?”

“Now that I—” He shudders as his cock swells in his hand, picking up the pace of his strokes. “Now that I know what you— what you _look_ like—”

“What part, Ben?” Her lips press against his collarbone and she traces it lightly with her tongue. “Do you think about my cunt?”

“ _God, yes.”_

“Tell me what you want to do with it.”

She’s so close that every pump of his fist ends with the head of his cock sliding against her stomach— leaving a slick trail of pre-cum that slicks her skin. “I want— I just want to be able to—”

“Go on,” she encourages. “I want to hear it.”

“I want to be able to _fuck you_ until you’re nothing but a mold of my cock. I want to make _you_ need _me.”_

“We’ll get there,” she croons— if perhaps a little breathlessly. “But until then— I’ve got you. You’re going to stretch me _so much_. Such a _pretty_ cock— and it’s mine. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” he whines. “Yours.”

“Are you close?”

He nods furiously. “ _So close_.”

“You’re going to need a place to put all that,” she murmurs.

“Wha—?”

But she’s already sinking to her knees— and his eyes widen as she places her hands on his hips and her tongue just under the head and her mouth is _open so wide_ like she’s just _waiting—_

He never stood a chance.

If he weren’t already painting her tongue and even a bit of her face— just the _sight_ of his cum in her mouth and on her chin would push him over the edge. She looks at him like she’s _grateful._ Like she wants this as much as he does.

Although that cannot possibly be true.

He’s never wanted anything more.

She pulls his cock into her mouth after— still half-hard and well on its way to a repeat performance with the way her tongue laps at it. She hums softly as she sucks him clean, and Ben knows that he definitely will not survive this woman.

When she moves to stand again— her mouth finds his and it is _his taste_ on her tongue and he can’t help the way his hands tug at her skin. The way he pulls her against him.

“You’ve been such a good boy,” she sighs against his mouth. “How do you feel?”

“So good,” he rasps.

“So sweet.” She presses a kiss to his mouth lightly. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Oh God.

He hopes she’s never done with him.

“Do you still have your other present?”

He blanches. He’d almost forgotten. His eyes flick to his nightstand to where he’d left it after becoming distracted by the the more recognizable of his _gifts._  

She’s leading him to the bed— tugging at his hand and urging him against the headboard as she crawls over him. She reaches for the little black ring of silicone— and Ben’s eyes widen as she stretches it a little between her fingers.

“You know what this is?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“This is going to help.”

He can’t look away as she presses it to the head, rolling it over his length slowly as it cinches his cock until it’s affixed firmly to the base.

“ _Fuck,”_ he grits out.

“How does it feel?”

“Like a vice-grip on my dick.”

She grins, running a finger up the underside of his cock to rub into the slit at the head. “But it’s going to make you _bigger_ and help you _last_ longer, and that’s a win-win for both of us.”

He nods, because he can definitely see the logic in that— but is distracted when she closes the distance to press against him. His hands were bound last time she’d been like this— legs spread over his thighs and hands in his hair and the way she’s _kissing him—_ he can’t even decide what to focus on.

It’s her mouth and her tongue and her _body_ and even her fucking _cunt_ because yes— he can feel that too. It’s a warm wet against his cock because she’s _grinding_ against him and it takes no time at all for him to be standing at attention.

“Do you want to fuck me now?” Her lips trail along his jaw— her fingers teasing his abdomen and making his muscles tense with her touch. “Tell me.”

“ _Yes.”_

Her teeth find his earlobe— nibbling there softly before soothing the spot with her tongue. “I said _tell me._ Say it.”

“Yes, I— _ah._ ” She rolls her hips to let his cock slide between her folds— and his grip tightens at her waist to still her. “ _I want to fuck you.”_

“Such a good boy,” she sighs sweetly.

She leans back then, pushing up on her knees to hover over him. Her hands find his shoulders— steadying herself over the head of his cock and he’s holding his breath because he _can’t believe this is happening._

It’s slow— the way she sinks onto him. His head falls back against his headboard when the tip disappears inside her— so wet and _warm_ and the way she _grips_ him— he’s never felt pleasure like this. It’s so much. It’s _too much._ The little black ring ensures that he is _throbbing_ with a need unlike anything he’s ever felt— but just this once he doesn’t feel like he will explode at any second.

At least for now.

For a moment there is a flash of memory— a disgusted face and a _did you seriously just—_ but then he sees her teeth trap her lip and her eyes flutter closed and _no—_ this is nothing like then. This is something far different. This is _Rey_.

The moan that tumbles out of her mouth when she continues to let him slide inside is like music— soft and needy and he can’t _believe_ she’s enjoying this too. When her hips meet his and he’s rooted deep inside— he is suddenly so glad she’d made him come. This would _ruin_ him. It might still.

He doesn’t realize his eyes are closed until he feels the softness of her mouth against his— feeling her tongue pressing inside as she licks into his mouth. His hands are so tight around her waist he fears he might hurt her— but if her sounds are any indication— she doesn’t seem to mind.

She rolls her hips testingly, and he grits his teeth so tight they could possibly break. “How do you feel?”

“It’s so good,” he manages breathlessly. “You feel _so good._ Is it— do you feel—”

“It’s _incredible,”_ she assures him. “You could split me open— just like this. So _full.”_

“ _Fuck,”_ he groans, huffing out a breath through his nostrils. “I want to. _I want to_ , Rey. I want to split you _wide open._ I want to do this _forever.”_

“I’m going to move now, sweet boy.” She leaves a kiss at his jaw. “Are you ready?”

He nods frantically— unable to do much more because she’s so _tight_ and _wet_ and he’s just trying to _hold on._

She lifts her hips— pulling herself off his cock slowly before sinking back down again. He twitches inside her, thinking for a moment that it might be all over— but he sighs in relief when he finds he still has time. He sends up a silent prayer of thanks for the ring. He wants to hold on. To enjoy this for as long as he can.

“ _Fuck,_ Ben,” she huffs out, rocking against his hips. “It’s so good. You’re so _big._ So _deep._ Do you think you can hold out? I want to come with you inside me.”

“I can—” His head lolls forward to rest against her shoulder— feeling her fingers in his hair. “I can try,” he grates into her skin.

“Let me—” They both moan as she lifts herself from his cock only to sink back down. “Let me make this easier.”

Then she’s gone— unsheathing herself from his now-slick cock as a strangled sound of protest escapes him. He can hardly breathe as he watches her fall face first to the bed beside him— her ass suspended in the air and he can see _everything_ from this angle— the swollen lips of her cunt on full display and it takes him only a second to scramble to his knees.

He can’t help but run his fingers through her slit— still half in a daze knowing he’s been inside her here and she whimpers softly when he pushes a finger inside.

“ _Ben,”_ she gasps. “I want you to fuck me now. Don’t hold back.”

His cock is an angry-red, and he’s harder than he’s ever been in his life— the silicone at the base of him snug and _so tight_ and he’s _leaking_ at the tip—

“ _Ben_.”

Her insistent plea brings him back to reality— and he is wrought with nerves and excitement because she _wants_ him. Wants him _inside_ her.

He can’t think of a single place he’d rather be

It’s different— pushing into her of his own volition. He can see the way her little hole stretches to fit him— the way her inner walls grip his cock to aid his entry. He could come like this, by sight alone— but that’s the problem. He’s determined not to. He’s felt her insides tremble around his fingers and he wants to feel it on his _cock_ because it’s been nearly _thirty fucking years_ and he can _do this_ goddamnit.

Already he feels her fingers at her clit— her hand reaching briefly to fondle his sac—his body tensing before she returns her attention above. He hears the sharp inhale that escapes her as she begins to touch herself, and the only thing he could want more in this moment is to possibly be able to _see—_ but there’s time for that later.

 _As many times as it takes,_ she’d said.

He hopes to make good on that.

It’s _bliss_ when he’s fully inside her— his hands at her hips to keep her still as he tries to focus on not coming right away. She’s so _tight_ and _warm_ and it feels so _good_ and he hasn’t even _moved_ yet.

Which reminds him.

The wet shine of his cock as he pulls out of her is _mesmerizing—_ and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. A slick sheen of _her_ straight down to the ring at the base of him. For a moment it distracts him. Distracts him from the hot pressure that threatens to spill out far too soon. He grits his teeth as he pumps into her with a little more force— enjoying the way her body jolts with the force of it. The way a little sound tears out of her.

“ _So good,_ Ben,” she moans. “Just like that.”

_So good, Ben._

It rings in his ears and in his blood and his chest is _heaving_ but he just keeps fucking into her because he’s lost now— reduced to sensation and sounds and the slick heat of her cunt as it pulls him deeper.

But it’s _too_ good.

Because even with the ring— he doesn’t think he can hold out much longer. It’s too good. _She’s_ too good. She’s _perfect._

“Rey,” he manages, a slight whine to his voice that he can’t even find the strength to be embarrassed about. “I can’t— I don’t think that I can—”

“I’m so _close,”_ she whimpers, her hand speeding up as she rubs at her clit. “Just a little longer.”

It’s possible his teeth will chip— with the way he’s gritting them together— but he shuts his eyes tight and _pleads_ with his cock to _just hold on._

But then her cunt cinches tight and it’s like a _fist_ the way it squeezes him and it’s so fucking _wet_ and _warm_ and Ben—

Ben is a goner.

He hates that he can’t control it— but the feeling of filling her up deep inside— his cock _gushing_ and _twitching_ as she’s wrapped around him—it’s _everything._

He can hear the way he’s babbling— a stream of _I’m sorry_ and _so fucking good_ and _I tried—_ but Rey doesn’t seem angry. She’s nodding into the mattress, still working at her clit.

“Stay just like that,” she urges. “Stay inside me.”

As if he needs any prompting.

He’s still sensitive when he feels it— the fluttering of her walls as they tremble around him and it pulls forth a fresh wave of his release even after he thinks he has nothing left to give. Her cunt pulls and _grips_ like she’s trying to trap him inside, and if he could find a way— he would _gladly_ stay like this forever. _Live_ like this even.

It is only when her body slumps a little— a content sigh humming from her— that he begrudgingly pulls out of her. He immediately misses the warmth of being inside of her— but he hopes they will do this again. Soon, possibly.

If she still wants him to, that is.

He falls to his back beside her, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I tried to hold out,” he says regretfully. “I’m sorry.”

Much to his surprise she rolls to curl into him— pressing her lips to his shoulder. “That was amazing. Don’t apologize.”

He turns to glance at her. “It was?”

She grins up at him as she lets her chin rest on his chest. “ _So_ good.”

Her fingers creep over his hips, tracing the rim of the silicone band before rolling it off his spent cock. Ben groans as she tosses it aside, shuddering when she returns to let her palm smooth his length teasingly.

He tries to gather his train of thought. “But I didn’t—”

“What did I say?” Her head ducks to let her teeth graze his nipple, and he shudders. “Hm?”

He swallows. “As many times as it takes.”

“And I intend to make good on that,” she purrs. “I think it might take a _while_ to get it just right.”

His eyes widen. “A while?”

“Mhm,” she lets the tip of her nose graze his skin, grinning as her eyes close. “I think I’ll have to keep you, Mr. Solo.”

His voice is just a little too quiet now, betraying the needy edge. “For how long?”

She peeks up at him, eyes sated and warm. His chest feels very tight now. “For as long as it takes.”

He bites his lip, the fluttering sensation on his chest like a thousand rabid butterflies whose wings beat so hard he can practically _hear_ it. “I’d be okay with that.”

“So would I, sweet boy.” She leaves a lingering kiss at his skin, still smiling sweetly in a way that does nothing to help the racing of his heart. Another kiss— then her eyes meet his, and she looks so _happy._ “So would I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll never understand why I am so hot for her calling him “sweet boy” but this Rey could do whatever she wants with me. 😂 
> 
> Just an epilogue left! I wonder where these two will end up?


	7. Learned From The Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean I feel like it’s fitting for this story that even the epilogue is just straight porn.

“Ben— are you even listening to me?”

Ben glances up from his phone distractedly— taking in the disgruntled look from his uncle. “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“So you’re fine with moving forward with this?”

He tries not to look too confused— glancing around at the other attendees of the meeting for some sort of cue and finding none. “Um… yes?”

“Excellent,” Luke grins. “It will be fun to see you in front of a camera for once.”

“I’m sorry?”

Luke laughs. “You just agreed to do your own segment. Congratulations. Pay attention next time, jackass.”

Ben scowls. Luke knows full well he has absolutely _no_ desire to do any actually reporting. He has every intention of protesting— but Luke is already gathering his things as he chats with the other attendees and Ben knows it will have to wait.

He glances down at his phone again— back to the message that had distracted him in the first place, grinning.

**Rey: I’m waiting in your office.**

He pushes from the table quickly— tucking his phone back into his pocket and trying not to sprint from the room.

He doesn’t succeed by much.

* * *

She’s sitting on his desk when he steps inside— legs crossed demurely in that fucking skirt of hers as she leans back on her hands.

She grins when he locks the door— and it takes him only a second to cross the space to reach her— hands cupping her jaw to pull her close so that he can push his tongue into her mouth.

She grins against his lips as she breaks away. “Miss me?”

“So fucking much,” he groans. “You’re not allowed to go on location jobs anymore.”

Her nails scratch at his chest through his button-down. “Oh, I’m not _allowed_ am I?”

His fingers finds her hips to squeeze— and he nips at her bottom lip. “You heard me.”

“Someone sure thinks they have the upper hand now.”

His lips curl in a smile. “I learned from the best.”

“Maybe I’ve been too lenient on you these last few years,” she murmurs. “Maybe you forgot just who runs the show here.”

“Maybe you should show me,” he breathes.

She sinks to her feet— hands trailing over the front of his pants to squeeze at his cock. He lets his eyes close against the sensation— pulling his lip between his teeth as she slowly falls to her knees.

She peeks up at him through her lashes as her fingers tease at his zipper. “Did you do what I asked?”

He nods slowly. “I still think it’s an odd request for an anniversary present.”

“The fourth year anniversary is linen or silk, sweet boy.” She works the fly of his pants apart— grinning at the flash of red beneath. “Didn’t you know?”

His breath catches as her finger trails over the scarlet silk— his cock straining against the fabric of _her_ underwear. “I think—” He groans when she gives him a light squeeze. “I think that’s only for wedding anniversaries.”

“Close enough, don’t you think?”

He spares a glance down to the sparkling engagement ring that is moving with every stroke of his cock, swallowing thickly. “Yeah,” he manages. “Probably.”

“Now— what was that you were telling me that I was not _allowed_ to do?”

He breathes deep through his nostrils— rocking into her hand a little. “Leave for that long.”

“And why not?”

“Because,” he groans. “I missed you.”

Her thumb presses into the wet slit of his cock. “Did you now.”

“ _Yes,”_ he hisses.

“I guess that’s a pretty good answer as far as they go— maybe you deserve a present after all.”

Then she’s leaning— her tongue flattening over the silk to trace his shape, and he nearly bites his own at the sight of it.

“ _Rey.”_

“You know,” she hums against his cock “I’m not sure why you in my underwear gets me so wet—” Her lips mouth at his shaft through the material. “—but your big cock in tight silk just makes me think of you wrapped in _me_ and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.”

She’s sucking at the head of him now— tasting him through the silk and it’s too much— _far too much_ for Ben to endure.

He rips her from the floor to crush her against him— tongue swiping through her mouth and hands gripping at her waist for only a moment before he spins her into his desk.

“Oh, you _really_ missed me,” she grins as his cock presses into her ass through the tight material of her skirt.

He doesn’t answer— too busy sucking at the spot just below her throat that he’s long since learned will make her breathless. Too busy tugging her skirt up over her hips to bare the rounded curve that is wrapped in nothing but a lacy black scrap that he quickly divests her of too.   

Then it’s only his fingers as they slide through her slick folds and her low moan as he slips two deep inside her and _god, yes—_ he’s missed her terribly.

He shoves her underwear away from his cock— freeing his throbbing length and gripping it at the base as he pushes between her legs to coat himself in the warm wet of her fluids.

“Grab the desk,” he growls.

She’s still grinning as she grips the other edge of his desk— laying flat against the wood as she turns her head to peek back at him. To watch as he lines up with her entrance. As he closes his eyes to sink inside her.

After four years— he no longer has that panicking urge to just _come—_ having had her every way imaginable, and now when he pushes into her it’s only her warm walls and the slow slide of his cock as he strokes in and out of her.

Regardless, he knows this will be quick— the pair of them having actually sworn off sex at the office after they moved in together two years ago, but she’s been gone for _two weeks_ and he’s missed her _so much_ and there’s no way he could have waited to get her home.

So he grunts through their frantic coupling— his hips slapping against hers as her body jolts against the desk. Her eyes close as soft sounds of pleasure escape her— and when they grow louder— he has to reach to cover her mouth as he spares a glance at his closed office door.

“ _Shh_ ,” he warns, pumping into her a little harder.

His body covers hers as his thrusts grow slightly more erratic— feeling that pressure building in his cock that comes so much slower now— so much _better._ He can feel the fluttering of her walls around him— signaling that she is right on the edge with him and he nudges her legs a little wider with his knee so he can reach between them. So he can seek out her clit with his fingers to rub into it.

“ _Ben.”_

It takes mere seconds before she’s shaking and her insides grow _tighter_ and he’s still pushing into her because _he’s not done_ and honestly that’s a miracle in itself.

“Rey,” he grunts, fingers digging into her waist as he pushes deep. _“Rey.”_

Her name is on his tongue when he gushes into her— pulling her hips close against his pelvis as his cock twitches deep inside to empty. He’s leaning over her as he finishes— lips and tongue passing over the skin of her throat as they come down from their release.

A content sound escapes her as she arches against him— turning her head as he finds her mouth to kiss her. “And I remember when I thought _I_ was teaching _you,”_ she chuckles softly.

His palm smooths over her hip and down her thigh as he eases out of her— leaving one last heavy press of his mouth against hers before pulling her to her feet and spinning her to tug her against his chest.

“I learned from the best,” he repeats, grinning.

She loops her arms around his neck as he moves to smooth her skirt back over her hips. “I’d have to agree with you there.” Her fingers card through his hair. “Although I still don’t know how I feel about you telling me what I’m _allowed_ to do.”

He bites back a grin as she presses her lips to his throat. “Is that so.”

“Mhm.” Her mouth brushes along his jaw. “I might even need to punish you when we get home.”

After four years, his heart _still_ races even at the thought. “Punish?”

“Yes,” she resolves. “I think you’ve been bad. Have you been bad, Mr. Solo?”

His cock twitches even now as his mind flits through all the various ways she’s _punished_ him over the years— all of them hardly a punishment at all. He pulls her closer— hand finding her jaw to tilt her face up to his as his lips hover over hers.

“Yes,” he hums. “I think I’ve been bad.”

He never did learn how to say no to this woman— but after all this time— he finds he doesn’t mind very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this weird kinky story! I learned a lot about myself. 😂❤️
> 
> My amazing friend Skerft drew this for the first encounter of these two crazy kids— and I love it and her. 😍❤️  
>   
> Check out her [twitter](https://twitter.com/skerft1) for more of her amazing reylo art!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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